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Post by rem2 on Feb 18, 2013 1:01:03 GMT -5
 allen didn't so much as cringe when the nurse took his blood. years of being probed by needles day after day would do that to you. it became as routine as brushing his teeth in the morning or putting on clothes. the same could be said about urinary tests or medication cocktails. didn't mean he liked it anymore than he had when he first checked in. he was going through the motions because that's what they expected him to do, because they were holding all the cards and opposition would bring him nothing but pain. it was easier when you didn't struggle. when you came to understand that resistance was futile. in a position as vulnerable as his, false hope wouldn't just disappoint a man --- it would destroy him.
his eyes didn't rise to meet her when she gave him a commending pat. they remained glued to the floor, burning holes of resentment into the carpet. a naive version of himself wouldn't have let her near his arm, insisting with a venomous sneer that it was his blood and that she had no right to steal it but silly him, it was he who was without rights here. the woman left him to his own devices but not before checking under his tongue to make sure he actually swallowed his tablets. the fog of grogginess begged him to flop back on his bed in rebellion to the sun's morning glow. he was so tempted to listen, to sneak a couple more hours of sleep despite knowing that it wouldn't relieve the heaviness of lethargy in his head and limbs. he could sleep on through to the next day if he let himself but even that wouldn't make him feel rejuvenated, no amount of rest ever could.
another insufferably predictable day had begun, for better or for worse. like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, he forced himself up and out of his room, into the dining hall where a tray of mediocre food awaited him. after breakfast he was led to the courtyard where an orderly lit him the only thing he had to look forward to. he brought the cigarette to his lips, eyes closing as it filled his lungs with it's cool menthol. it was bad for him, sure, but so were a lot of things including his so-called treatment. the cancer stick wedged between his fingers brought him more relief than the pills ever could and if the circumstances would allow it, he could easily envision himself smoking like a chimney. he sighed long and heavy, content for the moment as he released a puff through his nostrils.
words; 446
tags; haunt/tobias
notes; writtens
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Post by tobias blackthorn on Feb 19, 2013 6:04:43 GMT -5
 He was wandering around the courtyard like a stray dog that had escaped its leash, his master frantically searching in all the wrong places. With the high-risk label he carried on his shoulders, he wasn't meant to be outside unsupervised, but it wasn't his fault the security team had the eyesight of a half-blind mole. Two guards had started chatting in the recreation room, and Tobias had casually walked out. It was as simple as that - no grand escapist schemes this time. He knew the men must have discovered he was missing by now, but they hadn't thought to check the courtyard. It was rare that the boy exposed himself to the sunlight; a well-known fact. He had been locked up for so long that it hurt his eyes. Today, however, the sky was rather overcast, and he found the gloomy weather to be strangely inviting.
The breeze blew quietly, still chilly with the last remnants of winter, tousling his messy blond hair. With it, the air carried the faint, unmistakable trace of cigarette smoke, and as Tobias inhaled, he felt the fumes burn his nose. He slowly lifted his head, eyes scanning the courtyard for the culprit. Brown irises eventually singled out the cigarette's holder, and he tilted his head thoughtfully. Since when had the doctors been prescribing nicotine? He waited until the orderly was distracted with a misbehaving patient who thought it would be a good idea to eat the dirt, and then began his steady approach.
Little did this unsuspecting patient know that his day was about to become an unpredictable mess, as was anyone's who happened to cross paths with the somewhat infamous Tobias Blackthorn.
The blond strolled up to where the older male was sitting and, with a flick of his wrist, artfully plucked the cigarette out from between the man's fingers. "Finders keepers," he whispered, before giving the patient's cheek a pat and stepping out of reach. He grinned crookedly, expression smug, and lifted the cigarette to his lips to take long drag. It burned the back of his throat in a good way, unearthing a plethora of memories of lonely nights behind closed doors, and he released the puff of smoke back into the air with a soft cough. Just under a year ago, he'd been hopelessly addicted to the bitter-smelling haze. |
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Post by rem2 on Feb 21, 2013 0:52:03 GMT -5
one look at allen relishing in nicotine and you'd think he'd been doing it forever, an addict long before they locked him up behind white-washed walls. as irony would have it, he took his first ever puff right here on hospital grounds, not out of craving or desire but simply to give himself something to do, a reason to pry himself from the velcro seats and brave the outside if only for a minute. his lungs wouldn't thank him for it ten years down the line but maybe his sanity would, besides --- they would kill him before tobacco did, he was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt. some phlegm in his throat and a smoker's cough were the least of his worries. he flicked the ash, tip of the cigarette glowing faintly with another deep, savouring drag.
someone stepped into his peripheral sight; a fellow patient with that lanky emo kid fresh out of high school look about him. he became more recognisable as he came closer and though allen didn't know him personally, that gaunt face wasn't an unfamiliar one. blue eyes rose with caution, meek and uncertain about the high risk patient invading his bubble without provocation. they grew wide as the cigarette was snatched from his lax fingers, flashing with the injustice of a child getting a toy stolen by a playground bully. finders keepers? no, it was his! the only one he'd get until hours later and that was if the staff deemed him worthy of another. he opened his mouth to speak out against what had just happened but found himself at a loss for words, frowning dejectedly instead.
the cocky expression on the other male's face was enough to make him sag forward with a sigh, arms resting over his knees. the need to feel that pleasurable tightness in his chest nagged him to demand his smoke back but he knew any attempt would probably be useless. it wasn't like he had the backbone to get up and take it back either so he looked away as if nothing had ever happened, willing himself to do without in order to avoid possible conflict. this unfortunate experience came with a lesson to be learned, a lesson that would teach him not to make himself comfortable out in the open where he could be antagonised by spunkier residents. he'd choose the shade of a tree over a spot on this bench next time, or maybe --- dare he think it, hover around the staff if he really valued an opportunity to smoke.
words; 429
tags; haunt/tobias
notes; writtens
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Post by tobias blackthorn on Feb 28, 2013 2:30:26 GMT -5
The older male didn't give the slightest sign of protest as his cigarette was plucked away, submitting with no more than a discontented sigh. Tobias waited for a reaction, but he was not blessed with one; only a silent pout. Seems like he had come across yet another zombie – that, or the guy was just being a pussy, despite their obvious age difference and contrast in size. "What? That's it?" the delinquent snorted, quirking a brow as the patient slumped forward like a weary dog who'd had its bone stolen one too many times. Taking the cigarette had been easy. Too easy. Easier than stealing candy from a baby. The lack of reaction left Tobias feeling vaguely disappointed. He hated the dazed expression in everyone's eyes, and more than that, he hated their silence. Was he the only one who had managed to hold onto his soul?
"I'm doing you a favor, you know," he added, subtle sarcasm in the undertones of his voice as he took another drag, holding the smoke longer this time before breathing it out. "One less cigarette, one day more until your lungs rot." He smirked crookedly, shrugging his shoulders in a way that suggested he was completely innocent, just another citizen trying to do a good deed. Of course, this was exactly the opposite of the boy's intentions, and the painfully sarcastic simper that pulled at the edges of his lips made it obvious that he was up to no good. "Unless, of course, you want to die, in which case I wouldn't blame you," he mused thoughtfully, inhaling one, final time before slowly holding the cigarette out to its rightful owner. Brown eyes narrowed expectantly as he waited to see if the man would take it. |
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